The Very Secret Diary of Dr. Helen Bryce

Monday: Drop-kicked an intern. Go me! That picture in the bedroom of Oedipus Lex's mother gives me the creeps.

Tuesday: Drop-kicked a Volvo. Double go me!

Wednesday: If Lex asks me to "play doctor" one more time, I'll do something drastic. Drop-kick? Naaah, I'd hate to get into a rut.

Thursday: He asked me another time. It's the way he smirks as though he thinks I haven't heard it a dozen times before.

Friday: He showed me his little hobby room, without making a single reference to Bluebeard. I wonder if he's not feeling well? Dammit, Jim, I'm a drop-kicker, not a...oh. Yeah. Well, I suppose it's better than if he were a pervy cow-fancier.

Saturday: It feels like Lex and I are playing "go fish" with a deck made of Clark Kent bits and pieces. I've got the blood, though, nyahh nyahh nyahh, nyahh nyahh!

Sunday: I stepped in something a Kent cow dropped. Would have drop-kicked the cow except I couldn't tell which one it was. Might have drop-kicked them all except probably Jonathan Kent would have killed me.

Monday: Lex, that's the last time you ask me to play doctor. From now on, it's a strict policy of loading into a Carribbean-bound plane, drugging you, parachuting out, and taking plane controls with me. Yay! I've found something more original than drop-kicking! Go me!





AN: This one just sprang out of nowhere, as well as out of order. So I put in pervy cow-fanciers *and* Jonathan Kent killing somebody.